When Soul Rises Into Lips You Feel

Come, Come, Whoever You Are. Wanderer, Worshiper, Lover Of Leaving. It Doesn't Matter. Ours Is Not A Caravan Of Despair. Come, Even If You Have Broken Your Vows A Thousand Times. Come, Yet Again, Come, Come.

Whatever Posessions And Objects Of Its Desires The Lower Self May Obtain, It Hangs On To Them, Refusing To Let Them Go Out Of Greed For More, Or Out Of Fear Of Poverty And Need.

That Moon Which The Sky Never Saw Even In Dreams Has Risen Again

In Love’s Country, Language Doesn’t Have Its Place. Love Is Mute.

Know That The Mirror Of The Heart Is Boundless. . . Here, Opinions Become Silent, Otherwise They Will Lead You Into Errors. . . For The Heart Is Sacred - Even More The Heart Is Sacredness Itself.